


Take a Day Off, So You Can Find Another Way to Get Driven Up a Wall

by NoisyNoiverns



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Children, Day Off, Domestic Fluff, Family, Grandparents & Grandchildren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6274888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even councilors need a day off now and then. Sparatus chooses to spend his with family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Day Off, So You Can Find Another Way to Get Driven Up a Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Written on suggestion from an anon on Tumblr. This isn't quite what the prompt was, but oh well :)
> 
> All mentions of "Ierian" are Councilor Sparatus.

“So, let me get this straight,” Valern said, struggling to keep up with Ierian while simultaneously juggling his coffee, the robes slung over one shoulder, and trying to get the straps of his backpack to lie flat. “You’re _leaving_ me. _Alone_. _All_ day. With Udina and Esheel and everyone else.”

Ierian rolled his eyes, sipping at his own coffee. “I have a dentist appointment in an hour and a half, then I’m meeting Teia and two of the kids for lunch, and I took the full day off for convenience. It’s only a day, you’ll be fine.”

“Need I repeat the words ‘Udina’ and ‘Esheel’?” Valern finally just gave up and handed Ierian his coffee and robes, then worked at fixing his backpack. “Gurji is scheduled to report in today, too, you’ve met her. Hundred-twenty-times-great-granddaughter of _the_ Beelo Gurji? Creepy prosthetic eye that glows and stares into your very soul? Rumored to be Beelo himself come back for more? I’m not talking to her alone.”

“If I can talk to Saren alone, you can handle Taeja alone.”

“Look, I might be able to level a city block with a few well-placed charges, but that’s nothing compared to a Gurji. They, they hatch their eggs in _acid_ , and feed their young insects bred in _fire_ -”

Ierian raised a brow plate at him as he handed back Valern’s things, and he amended, “Okay, so that’s a lot of urban legend. But _still_. You know Beelo’s record, and even the priests claim _she’s_ his latest round on the reincarnation cycle. The Gurji family doesn’t muck about with pleasantries like _not killing people_.”

“You’re paranoid. A Gurji Spectre is still a Spectre. I’ve been over her record as many times as you have, and she might not like taking orders, but she follows the rules. She’s not going to hurt you.”

Valern let out an irritated hum, then said, “Fine, maybe she won’t, but what about-”

“Are you just planning to go through every Spectre scheduled to report in today?”

“If that didn’t work, I remember what Tevos said we were going to cover during the meeting today. You really want me and Tevos to talk about the budget for the next quarter without a tiebreaker vote?”

Ierian snorted. “You just really hate being alone all day, don’t you?”

Valern shrugged unapologetically. “What can I say? Harassing ambassadors isn’t as much fun as walking around with a crabby old turian and not working.”

“ _Tevos_ , Val.”

Valern gave him the most unimpressed look he’d ever seen on a salarian, and he flicked a mandible. “It was worth a shot.”

“Yes, I really want to spend time with somebody who thinks repurposing a drive core thermal modulation system for optimal implosive capability on low-band trigger is a _challenge_.”

“That _is_ a challenge, Mr. STG Explosives Technician.”

“You know what I mean. _You_ think it’s a challenge because it’s a lot of big words. _She_ thinks it’s a challenge because it’s ‘unnecessary’ and ‘dangerous’ and ‘puts everyone at risk of spontaneous incineration, Valern.’ No fun whatsoever.”

“Do you have any idea how often I ask myself why we’re friends?”

“At least four times a day, probably.”

“Twelve in this conversation alone.”

Valern stopped walking for a moment, then shrugged. “Make that fourteen times a day, then.” He trotted to catch up, adding, “You know, that only begs the question of why you keep hanging around.”

“A mystery for the ages. I’m leaving now, before you say anything else that makes me want to call up the dalatrasses and ask just what they were thinking.”

“Suit yourself. Are we still on for _Galaxy of Fantasy_ tomorrow night?”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

“Dad, if you keep picking at your tooth, you’re gonna have to go back to the dentist,” Ierian’s daughter informed him. The youngest of three, Calvetorin was definitely her mother’s child- her brown plates were only a touch darker than Aediteia’s, and she was just a hair smaller. Ierian’s mother had told him she had his infiltrator’s build, and she’d obviously gotten his blue-green eyes. The cheekiness and blatant disregard for familial social rules, though, that was all on her mother.

He flicked a mandible at her and shook his head. “It’s _fine_ , Cal,” he said, moving one mandible to cover the offending tooth. “Just a little bit sore.”

“Then why do you keep picking at it?”

“Leave him be, Cal,” his wife said idly, not looking up from her food. “Your father just can’t leave his fillings alone.”

“Whose side are you on?” he complained, nudging her playfully with his shoulder. “At least Areus hasn’t turned on me.”

On his other side, their eldest, Areus, looked up, a brief flash of panic crossing his face. “What?”

“Areus doesn’t _count_ , Dad, he wasn’t paying attention.” Calvetorin popped a piece of her seafood assortment into her mouth and snorted.

“If he wasn’t paying attention, that means he doesn’t agree with the argument, so he’s on _my_ side. Don’t fight me on this, Cal, I’m a lawyer.”

“ _Mooooom_ , he’s using the ‘I’m a lawyer’ defense again!”

“It’s a valid defense!”

“Oh, hush and eat, you two,” Aediteia groused. She flicked a piece of fish fillet at Ierian and added, “You’re a horrible enabler, you know.”

“She started it.”

“Yes, and your fancy prosecutor training won’t let you leave an argument until you win. Leave your kids alone.”

“But Mom, it’s fun!” Calvetorin chirped.

Aediteia rolled her eyes and reached across the table to briefly grasp Areus's hand. “At least I have one baby who behaves.”

Areus beamed, then quickly covered the offending expression with his hands, neck flushing faintly blue. After a moment, he managed a muffled, “Thanks, Mom.”

Aediteia hummed, pleased, then went back to eating. “Areus, sweetheart, have you been around to meet your niece yet?”

Areus bobbed his head. “Yes, Mari.”

She smiled. “And?”

“And she’s very cute, Mari.”

Calvetorin straightened up a little, pleased, and Aediteia smiled in that way that always made Ierian’s stomach sink. “Teia…”

“Oh, don’t fuss, Ierian.”

“He doesn’t need the grandchildren lecture. Give it to Verres, he’s the highly eligible bachelor.”

Areus’s neck paled, and Calvetorin snorted. “He’s got a point, Mom. He's already got two kids, leave him alone.”

“Callie, baby, I like bragging about my grandchildren. The more, the merrier.”

“I heard that subtle implication. Leave me alone, Mom. I just gave birth last year.”

“I’m just saying-”

“How’s work, Dad?” Areus said loudly, mandibles fluttering.

Ierian almost choked on his food. He coughed a bit, then managed to get out, “Fine, Areus. No worse than usual, at least.”

Aediteia flicked her mandibles. “Ierian, be careful,” she said, subvocals ringing with alarm.

“I’m alright, Teia,” he soothed, leaning over to press a chaste kiss against her cheek ridge. “Don’t worry about me.”

Calvetorin snorted. “That’s like telling a salarian to slow down, Dad.”

Aediteia hummed and elbowed her daughter. “It’s the thought that counts, dear,” she said, stretching out her neck to rub the top of her head under his chin. “Going anywhere after lunch, Ierian?”

He shrugged and headbutted her affectionately, then went back to his food. “I didn’t have anywhere in mind, no.”

Calvetorin hummed. "I have an idea."

* * *

He ended up spending several hours of the afternoon in one of the parks on the Presidium, after walking with Areus back to his ship and picking up his granddaughter from daycare. Normally, Aediteia would have taken the baby, but given he had the day off, Calvetorin had insisted he get to spend the afternoon with her while he had the chance. Noviteia was downright delighted to see him, as year-old babies tended to be, and demanded she be allowed to ride on his shoulders.

He loved having grandchildren he could actually see regularly. His eldest son’s family lived on Palaven, so Calvetorin and her wife settling on the Citadel had been a pleasant relief.

On Novi’s request, they had gone on a walk along the Presidium, visiting a few stores with window displays highly appealing to a baby turian. Calvetorin was probably going to throttle him for spoiling the baby, but he considered it his solemn duty to do so as grandfather, so by the time they found a nice bench in a quiet park so he could sit down and rest, he was carrying an overstuffed, simplistic varren doll, and Novi was chomping her way through a bag of assorted fruits and candied nuts.

The Spectres assigned to bodyguard duty, he knew, were probably bemoaning his decision to go through the parks, but they’d live. He never got to spend time with his granddaughter when it was actually light out enough to take her to a park. The eternal twilight in the Wards was one thing, but a child needed proper light, artificial or not, and Calvetorin and her wife simply didn’t have the money to be constantly taking trips back to the homeworld to get Novi actual sun.

As they sat, Novi happily eating and Ierian idly browsing the news app on his omni-tool, one of said Spectres approached him. A burly, brown, crested turian with dull yellow markings and clad in the blue-and-white armor that was standard issue for the Spectres, Ierian had to take a moment before his memory provided him with an identity: Serlius Ezekian, combat engineer, distinguished veteran, supposed to have been put forward for the Spectres immediately following Relay 314 but delayed until after the political mess had died down, inducted in 2167, had only requested leave twice, once for his marriage and again to care for his expectant wife and eventual newborn child. Good man, but an annoying stickler about the rules.

He deliberately turned his head so Ezekian would have to definitely declare his presence, teasing Novi with trying to steal her snack while he waited for him to do something. After a minute, a loud cough rose over Novi’s giggling, and Ierian heaved a sigh. “Do you need something, Ezekian?”

Ezekian’s subvocals rumbled with embarrassment. “Sir, I’m sorry, sir, but, sir, shouldn’t you be getting home, sir?”

Ierian turned to glower at him, mandibles lowered. “No,” he said icily, “I shouldn’t.”

Ezekian squirmed. Spectre or no, nothing held more fear factor for a turian than pestering a superior. “I’m sorry, sir, didn’t mean any insubordination, sir, with all due respect, sir, don’t you think, sir, you should be somewhere, ah, safer?”

He sighed, long and slow. “Ezekian,” he began, “do I still have a team of Spectres tailing me everywhere, staying within visual range, armed to the teeth, and capable of taking down any immediate threat before it has even a volus’s chance outside their suit of getting to me?”

“Well, yes, sir, but-”

“And do I, Ezekian, still have a mostly-clean bill of health from my doctor, stating I can still hear, see, and smell just as well as I could when I was in mandatory and still needed them?”

“I mean, yes, sir, but-”

“And am I, Ezekian, in a wide-open area, with very few potential hiding places for enemies, and ‘conveniently’ out of sight of most possible sniper perches, the rest of which are occupied by aforementioned Spectres?”

Ezekian wilted slightly. “I understand, sir,” he mumbled. “Very sorry for bothering you, sir.”

He held his mandibles down for a moment, then relented. “No harm done, Ezekian. Just doing your job. How old’s your daughter?”

Ezekian blinked, then straightened up a little. “Two years next month, sir,” he said, subvocals thrumming proudly.

“I see,” he said, idly scratching Novi behind her mandibles. “You’re scheduled for guard duty until summer, aren’t you? Do you need leave to see her on her birthday?”

Ezekian shook his head. “No, sir. Millie- my mate, I mean, Milotia- she has a sister here on the Citadel, so she was going to bring Caien up to visit her aunt, and we were going to have a little family party after my shift was done.”

Ierian bobbed his head, flicking one mandible as he turned his head to look at his granddaughter, who had gone back to eating contentedly. “Novi,” he said gently, tapping the side of her head to get her attention. She looked up from her bag of treats, and he said, “This is Spectre Ezekian. He’s in charge of protecting me today. Do you think he’d like something to eat?”

She considered this, then dug in her bag and pulled out an untouched fruit, stubby mandibles fluttering. “Here ya go!” she chirped.

Ierian was pretty sure he could see Ezekian’s heart melt as he accepted the gift, bobbing his head. “Thank you, Miss Novi,” he told her, glancing at Ierian as he added, “How old?”

He hummed proudly. “One year. Her mother is my youngest.”

“Congratulations, sir,” he said, pausing to check his omni-tool as it started beeping at him. “Permission to take this, sir?”

“Granted. I’ll be fine.”

He and Novi watched Ezekian trot a short ways away for privacy, then he felt a little hand tugging on his sleeve. “Granpa,” Novi chirped, “whassa Spectre?”

* * *

Ierian groaned as he sat down, head thudding back against the couch. Aediteia hummed in vague amusement and leaned over him, mandibles quirked upwards. “Have a nice walk?”

He grunted and rubbed at his aching knees. “I don’t know where she finds the energy.”

She laughed, a high, burbling sound. “I’m just waiting for the day you finally utter the words ‘kids these days.’ Or maybe, ‘I’m getting too old for this.’”

He snorted and shook his head at her. “I am not. A one-year-old just has more energy than a seventy-five-year-old, is all.”

She rolled her eyes and planted a kiss on his brow plate. “You’ll admit you’re old yet, just wait.”

“Keep dreaming.”

She purred and walked around the couch so she could take a seat next to him, sprawling out and leaning against his shoulder. “Oh, if we’re talking dreams, then maybe one day I’ll get Saren to give me more than a panicked look and a few dismissive or noncommittal grunts for an interview, too.”

He rolled his eyes, slipping one arm around her waist and nuzzling the side of her head. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that’s even less likely. Can you reach the remote?”

“One sec.” She stretched out one long, dainty leg, just barely managing to grab the remote off the opposite end of the couch. “Areus said he’ll be around for dinner tomorrow night, if that’s alright with us.”

He hummed, accepting the remote from her foot. “I assume you told him you’d make all his favorites and have a pot of tea waiting for him?”

She chuckled. “You forgot the part where I hugged him, kissed him, and told him a thousand times he’s always welcome to stop by whenever he wants.”

“I’d assumed that was a given with you. I can get Novi from daycare again tomorrow, if you need time to get ingredients.”

Aediteia hummed, watching the channels flick by as she considered. “Why don’t we both pick her up?” she finally suggested. “Give her some time with both of us at once. Oh, and Callie texted me, Carrinia thought the varren toy was adorable, so you’re off the hook for feeding the baby’s growing addiction to stuffed animals.”

Ierian snorted gently, settling on the mid-afternoon news. “She forgets she had enough toys you couldn’t find the floor when _she_ was that little.”

“Or maybe she does, and she’s trying to stop Novi from doing the same out of remorse for the chaos she put us through.”

They paused and looked at each other, then both started snorting and cracking up. “Oh, that’ll be the day,” Ierian chuckled, playfully rubbing his knuckles against Aediteia’s shoulder.

She laughed for a moment longer, then sighed contentedly and relaxed against him. “This is nice,” she hummed, brushing her cheek ridges against his keel. “You should take the day off more often.” Wiggling her mandibles suggestively, she added, “I’m sure the studio won’t mind if I take one with you. Give their stupid gossip show an hour’s worth of material on the councilor’s day-long date with the stylish reporter he married. _Ages_ before he was councilor, but when have they ever cared about that?”

He smiled and leaned down so he could kiss her gently. “As tempting as that is, I think we may want to wait at least a month or so before we do. Valern might implode from boredom otherwise.”


End file.
